


Five Times No One Noticed and One Time Someone Did

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert and Aaron manage to keep their affair secret even right under the noses of friends and fellow villagers, until finally someone discovers their secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times No One Noticed and One Time Someone Did

**_ Five Times No One Noticed _ **

**__ **

**I: Bob**

It’s 11am in Bob’s café, the time of day characterised by the sweet smell of his caramel tray-bake ‘elevensies’ cooling on the counter. Aaron sits at one of the circular tables, his back to the door and eyes fixed on the Hotten Courier, the dregs of a latte cooling to a sludge at the bottom of the cup. His eyes scan the auto-trader pages out of habit, when he feels someone walk by his table and tap him on the arm.

“Mornin’,” says Robert, strolling by and turning his head to give Aaron a nod. They’ve not argued in three days – it must be some sort of record.

Aaron doesn’t replicate the greeting, but raises his head to notice two things: Robert’s alone and he’s tightly packed into those favourite jeans of his. Aaron has to concentrate on the next turn of his newspaper page, but his eyes still flicker upwards as if taking careful, nibbling bites. Just how much is he allowed to stare these days? What’s his ration? More often than not it depends on Robert’s mood and today, thankfully, he seems at ease. Over confident, even. Willing to talk to him in public at least.

“Will it be the usual?” Bob asks Robert as the words on the page of Aaron’s newspaper blur into the background.   

“Yeah and a latte.”

“To go?”

“No,” he says, handing over a note. “I’m taking a well-earned break.”

“Lucky for some,” says Bob. “I’ll bring them over.”

Aaron isn’t quick enough to fold up the paper and stand before Robert’s pulled up the chair opposite and made himself comfortable. “Hold your horses,” he says. “I’ve just bought you a coffee.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Robert’s legs are spread as he reclines, bumping his knee against Aaron’s. He’s undeterred by the hostile reception, keeping a steady, smiling gaze on Aaron. “I’m not allowed to buy you a coffee?”

Aaron shrugs. “Usually means you’re after something.”

“How about the pleasure of your company?” Robert presses his leg deliberately against Aaron’s, the heat sinking through. Aaron doesn’t pull away, keeping his leg still against the faint pressure. “Or the scintillating conversation…”

Aaron smirks, head shaking. Robert’s raised a smile in him, one he’s quick to cover up, pulling his lip into his mouth by his teeth.

“Oh, so you _can_ smile before midday.” He digs his knee a little harder into Aaron’s thigh and moves it in a circular motion so Aaron knows this isn’t accidental. He can’t picture what this looks like to anyone else in the café, to Bob. A business meeting? Do they look like friends now? Can he see the smile itching away at his face, resolve crumbling?

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Robert wets his bottom lip when he smiles and sits forward. No one else would notice, but Aaron’s seen it enough in his face to recognise it – a thought taking over, infiltrating Robert’s head – and he blinks, a flicker of movement in his cheek. He takes a glance at Aaron’s paper and then grips the bottom of his chair and scoots it round so he’s at a right angle to him rather than opposite. Aaron sits, brow furrowed for a moment, perplexed as Robert stares intently at the paper – as if something so important has grabbed his attention. He operates with sleight of hand, diversion. As Robert leans in to peel open the newspaper, his free hand skims over Aaron’s knee and then comes to rest, with a squeeze, on his thigh.

Staying still, keeping quiet, Aaron feels the back of his neck burn with panic. He rests his elbows on the table top, dangerously aroused and trying to keep this risky behaviour out of view. His body prickles as Robert’s fingers splay and then contract, squeeze and release. He takes a quick glance at Bob. How does the whole café not see he’s on fire?

He tries concentrating on his breathing.

“Not working today then?” Robert asks, voice clipped and robotically casual. He’s dared to edge his hand further up Aaron’s thigh.

Aaron’s next breath is sharp, leaving his next words to come out unflatteringly squeaked. “No. No. Morning off.”

“All right for some,” Robert says, flashing him a grin. He glances over to the counter where Bob has his head down, laying out the two drinks on a tray. “I’ve got meetings all day, otherwise I’d say we could…”

His fingers track inwards, running a ticklish path that makes Aaron jolt and squirm away. He hisses, hand flapping across his mouth and turning away.

“Sorry. Forgot you were ticklish,” Robert says, quietly and withdraws his hand with reluctance, just as Bob winds his way out from behind the counter. Then it’s as if someone has flicked a switch and Robert’s back straightens, his hands now busy with the paper.

“Here you go lads. One Americano…one latte.”  He sets down the cups in front of them.

“Cheers, Bob.”

“Ta.”

“Can’t tempt you with anything else on this rare break of yours?” Bob says, clutching the tray and grinning dopily at Robert.

Aaron feels Robert’s leg stretch under the table and fall so it touches his again. Bob is as oblivious as ever.

“Not unless you can rustle me up a few more hours in the day.”

“Can’t quite stretch to that, I’m afraid. But I can get you a nice lemon and poppy seed muffin.”

Robert pats down his stomach. “Best not. Someone’s got to keep themselves in shape, eh?”

Aaron’s tried to keep out of the conversation as much as he can, his concentration focused on ignoring the weight of Robert’s leg against his.

“Aaron?” Bob asks, staring at him like it’s not the first time he’s said his name. Aaron sparks up and stops slouching, pinning his attention back onto Bob. “Get you anything?”

He glances Robert from the side. “Well if he’s paying then yeah. Cheese and ham roll would be great.”

There’s a vague look of confusion that passes across Bob’s face that stays there as Robert smirks, rummaging for his wallet and batting back another smile in Aaron’s direction. It’s a bafflement in Bob’s fixed expression, but one that doesn’t make him look any closer or linger at their table any longer. He hasn’t picked up on anything. Even when he returns to the counter and Aaron, blowing on his latte, can watch Bob, he doesn’t look over.

“Since when was I buying you lunch?”

“Since you sat at my table with your wallet out, that’s when.”

Robert runs his hands down his own legs and then one drifts to Aaron’s knee again, this time gentle, affectionate. “Well if all it takes is coffee and a roll to put a smile on your face then I can’t complain.” He strokes across the fabric of Aaron’s trousers and then slips away.

“That and the _scintillating_ conversation,” Aaron replies, poshing up his voice and knocking his knee against Robert’s.

Bob doesn’t notice a thing.

 

**II: Adam**

No sooner had he looked up from the paperwork, seeing the figure in the doorway of the portacabin, had Aaron's head fallen back down, trying to suppress the smile that beamed out of him. A smile so wide, its greed took up half his face, so unlike him. Robert closed the door behind him, swaggering over with hands in his pockets.

"Missing me already, are ya?" Aaron asks, allowing himself a little moment to be smug, leaning back into his chair. They'd been parted less than fifteen minutes; Robert had dropped him off round the corner of the scrapyard and out of sight. They'd indulged in one last kiss, Aaron's hands pulling at the front of Robert's navy shirt as Robert held his face, reluctant to let him go. He struggled to go back to normal when they'd spent the night together - when they'd been so free and alive and content - everyone was used to sullen, frowning, monosyllabic Aaron. This guy, the one who slipped out of Robert's Aston Martin, unseen, eyed up by the guy behind the steering wheel and struggling to buckle up his glee - this guy was a stranger to most of them.

"Something like that," Robert says, stopping at the desk and hovering over it, knuckles pressed into the top. "Adam not about then?"

Aaron checks under the desk, eyes twinkling with humour and then shrugs back at Robert. "Doesn't look like it."

Robert's gaze grazes him up and down and he worms his way round to Aaron's side of the desk. This was how he’d prowled last night, over to the bed, taking off his underwear as it happened. They’d been so wrapped up in each other that once they’d parked up outside the hotel they’d just kissed and kissed – forgetting there was a bed waiting inside for them.

"Don't get any ideas, he'll be back in a bit."

Robert ignores the advice and his mouth presses against Aaron’s in a way that's firm and warm, carrying the affection and honeymoon intensity of the morning after. It's all too brief but Aaron's lips smart with a smile afterwards and he turns away from Robert coyly, fiddling with a pen on the desk.

"He's on a breakfast run."

"I offered to get you room service at the hotel!" Robert says, incredulous and sounding almost jealous.

"Er, yeah, cos I was really going to choose to spend our last hour in bed eating breakfast."

"Fair point," he says, a smile carving its way out of his boyish cheeks. It's the smile that gets him every time, Aaron thinks, other things too but that smile flips his stomach. He forgives far too much for that smile.

"I was thinking," - Robert says, perching on the edge of the desk beside him and crumpling some of the papers - "we could get away again next week. Two nights if we're careful."

"Two nights? Wow, your lies at home must be getting better and better." He can't help himself, a tinge of bitterness streaks through his tone no matter how much he continues to put up with being Robert's mistress.

"Come on, just think about it. You and me far away from this place." His voice lowers and the smoothness of it lingers across Aaron's skin. "You know one night is never enough for us..."

It's then, when Aaron's staring up at Robert, letting anticipation and desire seep through him, when he could crane up to kiss him, that the door bashes open and Adam blunders in, carrying bags of breakfast food from Bob's. To Aaron's surprise, Robert doesn't leap up and jump away from him like he's been burnt, he just turns, leaving Aaron to scoot away on his chair. His face feels hot, emblazoned with evidence of what was running through his mind just moments before. He was thinking of last night, the next night, every night. Clean, white sheets. Robert's slow, hungry mouth. His bare chest, the muscles of his thighs. His....

"Alright Rob, mate. Not checking up on us, are you?" Adam says, dumping one of the paper bags on the desk and delving into the other himself. “Sorry, if I’d known you were stopping by I’d have got you one.” He gestures with the bacon roll before stuffing it in his mouth.

Aaron unwraps his, all too aware of Robert’s proximity.

“I’m sure Aaron won’t mind sharing,” Robert says and Aaron swears he senses a thread of daring in there somewhere. His voice makes the hair on the back of his neck rise. Adam is too busy eating to even see how close Robert is sat.

“You’ll be lucky, mate. He won’t even share chips.”

“You just said you weren’t hungry five minutes ago,” Aaron says, scoffing.

“Well, now I am.”

Aaron braces himself for Adam to make some comment about them having a domestic or to try to referee between them, but he says nothing. In the end he relents, tearing the roll in two in a messy way and handing half over to Robert, looking away as he licks his fingers. Aaron can feel the smug satisfaction radiating from him – he doesn’t even need to look to know what Robert’s thinking. _So I’m one of the lucky ones?_

In a vague attempt to look like he’s there for business reasons, Robert shuffles around to the other side of the desk and takes a leaf through their books for the month. Aaron lets Adam do the explaining, while he sits stiff in the chair feeling exposed in Robert’s continued presence. He tries not to imagine what might have happened had Adam walked in just a minute later. He tries not to wish he’d been waylaid by ten minutes, long enough to pull Robert close and press against him, feel warm breathy kisses on his neck. He tries not to keep reliving the night before in his mind, the raw gasps and damp bodies when they spread out beside each other staring up at the ceiling and relearning how to speak.

Aaron gives into the yawn, mouth stretching and collapsing. He’d barely slept.

“We keeping you up?” Robert says, flicking up his gaze.

Aaron shrugs and pretends to be interested in a magazine to his side.

“What, you on a late one last night, were you?” Adam asks and Aaron prays that he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“No.”

Adam chuckles. “You didn’t pull, did you?”

Even if it doesn’t, Aaron can feel Robert’s jaw tense.

“Shut up,” he says. “You think if I had I’d have bothered to show up today?”

“Well as your investor, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Robert says, but there’s a glint in this eyes, one that tells Aaron they’re safe, they’re in the clear. He straightens up to leave. “Books look good, lads. I’m impressed.” He claps Adam on the back and Aaron can’t help but feel this chumminess is done purely to make him uncomfortable. Robert heads to the door, giving Aaron one last lingering look which Aaron has to tear himself away from.

It’s only a minute later when he receives a text.

_I’m booking those two nights. I want you there. OK?_

He clenches his face, fighting the smile and texts back: _Ok_  

Adam doesn’t notice a thing.

 

**III: Diane**

They’re squeezed into Aaron’s single bed, Robert’s arm slung around Aaron’s shoulders, fingers finding a softened patch of hair behind his ear. It’s mid-afternoon, quarter to four, and Robert just couldn’t say no. Aaron had sent him a text – simple, to the point. _My mum’s out, Diane’s out, Vic’s off. I’m home._ It didn’t need thinking about, it didn’t even really need an excuse. He’d been vague enough with Chrissie as it was – saying he was out and about all day. He’d stopped home for lunch and that was enough to placate her.

Aaron had let him in, sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to expose his forearms which were slightly tanned from a brief glimpse of early summer sun.

“Coast still clear?” Robert checked, before he let his hunger overrule his head.

Aaron greeted him with eager nods and slipped his hands over Robert’s chest, pulling him by the lapels of his jacket until their mouths met for a brief tease of what awaited.

“How do you sleep in this bed?” Robert asks, squirming for a more comfortable position. He keeps grip on Aaron, unwilling to break their position just yet. He’s content in their damp press of skin, the rough scratch of Aaron’s beard on his chest and the clinging taste of his body and mouth. The size of the mattress means Aaron’s forced onto his side, his bare leg thrown over Robert’s and the weight and warmth feels good.

“By closing my eyes usually.”

Robert resists the arrogance that lurks on his tongue. Are his last thoughts at night of him? “A decent mattress would be a start.”

Aaron rises up above him, pushing himself up with his fist in the mattress. It barely dents and Robert thinks his point has been made for him. “I didn’t ask you here to pass judgement on my bed,” Aaron says.

“Oh? What did you want me for?” Robert says, sliding his hand down the contour of Aaron’s spine and letting it come to rest on his hip. His fingers play over the smooth skin, staring up into his eyes. There’s a toying sparkle to them. Robert watches him frown.

“Can’t remember,” he says and then, lowering with an unbearable speed he lays his parted mouth on Robert’s lips. His whole body shivers with it. The weight shifts and before the kiss has ended, Aaron climbs on top, his back curving with his need to raise the intensity. Robert tastes beer and sex when their tongues meet but his eager hands on Aaron’s ass fractures their kiss with the lowest of groans in Aaron’s throat and they’re apart again, staring.

He reaches out for Aaron’s face, running his thumb across his reddened lips. He knows what Aaron wants to say and he knows that if things were different he’d agree - he’d stay. But they both know the time, know the risk and the coolness of the room begins sinking into their bones. There’s a wordless acceptance in the way they separate and dress, leaving longing looks to the warm, messy sheets.

Robert runs his hand along Aaron’s shoulder blades – his goodbye.

“I’ll just check no one’s about,” Aaron says.

An ache opens up inside of Robert as he watches him slip through the doorway and it’s less of a reluctance to leave Aaron’s body, but a reluctance to leave _him_. He picks up his jacket, the cool lining sliding up his arms and follows Aaron’s beckoning until they’re both at the bottom of the stairs – not touching, not holding, not kissing. They’re doing all of this in their head, in that private space, in the heavy looks between them.

“Thanks for texting,” Robert says and he can feel himself swaying, feel his body pulled closer to Aaron’s even though they shouldn’t risk it so close right here at the back of the pub.

Aaron’s head drops, biting his bottom lip. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as if it’s a preventative measure. “Don’t mention it,” he says with a look that makes Robert want to fuck it all and take him back upstairs.

He’s about to tell him something, about to give him another piece of the real Robert, but he hasn’t formed the words yet and before he does they’re drowned out by the sound of heels approaching and Diane starts when she sees them there at the bottom of the stars.

“Oh hi love, didn’t know you were about!”

Robert backs off, praying to whoever might listen that Diane hasn’t seen the way they were stood, can’t feel the longing, can’t smell their guilt. He’s not at ease anymore, not soft, his body not curving to Aaron’s sway. He breathes in, his chest puffs and turns to Diane with a smile of a thousand lies.

“I was just coming through to the bar,” he says. “Just getting some car advice first.”

“Well you’re in the right place. Aaron’s the expert there! What he doesn’t know about a car isn’t worth knowing,” Diane says, throwing a wink in Aaron’s direction, who gives nothing away in a tight smile.

They both move for Diane to get past and head up the stairs and Robert can’t bring himself to move away.

“Have a drink with me.”

“Are you sure?” he says, voice a murmur, glancing upstairs as Diane approaches again.

He smiles and taps him on the arm. “You can give me your expert advice,” he says, as Diane comes into earshot again and follows them out to the bar.

Diane doesn’t notice a thing.

 

**IV: Ross**

Debbie pleaded with Aaron, told him she was desperate. Half a day’s work – she’d said – that’s all it needed. Dan was visiting Sean in Liverpool and she’d promised Sarah and Jack a trip out. He’d queried why Ross couldn’t do it and she’d given him some shifty and vague answer saying Ross was looking for work elsewhere. And that’s how Aaron found himself working at the garage on a day off from the scrapyard in his familiar blue overalls.

“What time will you be done?” Cain says, calling to him as he slides out from under the vehicle, wiping grease on his hands.

“Four if I’m lucky. You giving the owner a ring?”

“Yeah I’ll do that then I’m going on my lunch. You want anything?”

“I’m alright, brought something with me.”

“Aw, did your mummy make you a packed lunch?” Cain teases, heading into the office to look up the customer’s number.

“Very funny,” Aaron says and takes the opportunity to check his own phone which is littered with a string of texts all from Robert. He skims them quickly and deletes – he’s got no time for his pathetic attempts at apologies, his whiny insistence that they talk – no, not after last night.

Robert had stopped by the scrapyard late in the day, careful to avoid Jimmy and Adam knowing Aaron would be the last to leave. If his hands and mouth were anything to go by, he was in a good mood. He’d slipped his hands around Aaron’s waist from behind, pulling their bodies together and burying hot, slow kisses in the crook of his neck. Aaron hadn’t questioned him, he’d gone with it, enjoying the attentive persistence of his touch. They’d got as far as the desk, pushing off Robert’s jacket and unfastening their jeans.

Aaron was breathless, his hands full of Robert’s hair, lips parted. He had his legs spread and hooking Robert closer. Every part of him wanted Robert to fuck him on the desk, but he spoke instead, betraying his instincts.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, trying to ignore the delirious spin in his head, the heavy thrum of his body.

“Not right now,” he’d said, slight smirk as he shook his head, unwilling to give up on the heat they’d created and roughly palming Aaron’s dick through his jeans.

“We can go to mine.”

Aaron saw him hesitate and pull back, the lines on his forehead multiplying. “Can’t,” he said. “I’m on borrowed time.”

He knew full well what that meant and he tried to let the anger and the disappointment crawl into a fiery ball inside him. He’d known all along what this was, he shouldn’t be surprised when he was the lowest of Robert’s priorities. He was used – used when Robert was bored or horny or miserable. At least, that’s what Robert made him feel like.

The chasm between them had already opened and Aaron moved away, hoping Robert felt the same brutal rejection he did, because if Robert was going to make him feel unwanted then he sure as hell was going to do the same.  

When he arrived home he spent most of the evening upstairs in his room blocking out all thoughts of Robert. Trying to. But his mood sunk and festered, worst still when he went to get a pint and heard Diane chatting away to Val.

“I wouldn’t mind being whisked away!” Val had said dreamily, swishing her glass of wine into the air. “Where is it they’re headed?”

“I think Robert said it was the Maldives. He’s got to go for the grand gesture considering he messed up by forgetting her birthday,” Diane said.

Aaron grew cold, his stomach ripped out. He left the bar, feeling fury whipped into his face. Not so much as a word from Robert about it. He could barely type through his anger, his hands shaking violently and the words of his text misspelt and autocorrected in error, but in the end it was final. He meant it. He really meant it.

*

In the garage Cain slopes off for his lunch hour and Aaron retunes the radio to something louder, something more aggressive, to fit his mood. He’s glad of the work, glad of the distraction. He’s got the bonnet of the car up and the smell of petrol rattling round his lungs. He convinces himself he’s free, he’s happy.

Then there’s footsteps, footsteps he knows and recognises and he feels his jaw tighten, his resolve shielding. He won’t be swayed.

“Your phone broken or something?” Robert says, talking to him even though Aaron pretends there’s no one there at all. “I’ve been texting you. Calling you. I even went to the scrapyard.”

“Congratulations you found me!” Aaron says, raising his head just long enough to look him in the eye. “Now turn around and go back the way you came.”

“You’re upset with me. I get it.”

Aaron blinks. He snaps into standing and the spanner clatters to the ground. “Upset? No, mate. I’m furious.” His fists curl, blood screaming through his body. “Furious that I fooled myself into thinking you actually gave a fuck about me.”

“I do!”

“Yeah, of course you do!”

“If this is about the holiday…I can explain…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. You and me are strangers. Nothing.”

“We’re not.”

“We are.” Aaron rises up, trying to back him out of the garage. “So you take your wife on holiday. You enjoy it because you know what? I’m better off without you.” His teeth clench and he shoves Robert backwards. “I don’t want you.”

Robert stumbles and then his face changes, skews into something twisted and harsh. He grips onto Aaron’s shoulders and throws him against the car, pinning him there with a thud. Their bodies and breaths collide.

“Well I want you,” Robert says, panting, his frustration dissolving into something more primal as the physical tension between them pulses.

They’re fierce and grappled when another set of footsteps strolls by, contributing to the fray with a whistle.

“Alright ladies?” Ross says looking between the two of them, hands stuffed into his pockets and grinning widely. All Aaron can hear is their breaths, can feel Robert’s groin pressed right up against his. “This is all very cosy,” Ross says.

Aaron shoves Robert off him, rushing back to the bonnet of the car before the flush of his cheeks give him away – that there was more than just anger in the moment.

“You’re not really that desperate for cash that you have to start roughing him up, are ya?” Ross says to Robert, sneering at him. “You really are pathetic.”

“Get lost, will you? This is private.”

Ross looks around and shrugs. “Er…no. Not more secrets from the lovely Chrissie I hope?”

“We’re done here,” Aaron says to Robert. “So you can go.”

“Not until we’ve sorted it,” Robert says, the desperation cracking in his voice.

“It’s sorted. We’re done.”

Aaron grits his teeth, glaring at Robert and trying to build his defences brick by brick. He won’t let himself be shaken by the look on Robert’s face. The way his head falls and his eyes soften, his mouth shrinking in hurt. Aaron watches him leave, his heart pounding.

Ross doesn’t notice a thing.

 

**V: Andy**

 

There’s an answer to all his problems at the bottom of a pint, Robert’s decided. He just hasn’t resolved how many pints it’ll take to get there. He’s three in, glum and hunched, eyes on the bar hoping and dreading Aaron might appear in equal measure. It’s a form of torture hanging around The Woolpack, knowing this is where he might be. Should be. And if he’s not he’s probably out somewhere with someone else, not thinking about him at all.

He’s thinking about ordering something stronger, despite the looks Diane keeps throwing his way, when Andy enters and spots him.

“I’ve not seen you this miserable since the 96 World Cup,” he says, shrugging off his coat. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” Robert says, unable to lift his head in greeting, too preoccupied indulging in his own grief.

“Chrissie hasn’t seen the light already, has she?”

He wants to tell Andy that it’s nothing to do with her, he wants him to stop digging so he doesn’t have to make excuses for his mood. But as he swills the beer in his glass he sees Aaron enter the pub and head straight for the bar, not even noticing him slumped in the corner. Robert steals a sharp breath and gazes over at him.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Didn’t need to tell me that,” Andy says. “What have you done now?”

“Messed up again.”

“And what’s sitting in here drinking going to achieve?” Andy says picking up his pint.

Robert keeps his eyes on Aaron, studying the back of his neck, remembering the sensation of it when his tongue criss-crossed and Aaron squirmed. No one gets to see that, just him and now it’s no one.

“It makes me feel better,” Robert says, draining the last of it. “Get me another.”

“Not until you tell me what you’ve done.”

“Is this your brotherly chat where you tell me how to fight and not take no for an answer? Well I’ve done that and guess what? It didn’t work.” He can feel himself slurring, his tongue unravelling, his mind forming sentences he can’t set free. This mocking bitterness makes Andy sit back in the seat, irritated.

“Right. Enough of this self-pity. I’m getting a pint and I’m getting _you_ a coffee.”

Robert keeps his head down, trying not to give into his need to watch Andy step up beside Aaron, trying not to feel sickening twists of jealousy at their easy conversation. He overhears them and pretends not to, looking into the white foam of his decimated pint.

“You don’t fancy keeping me company, do you?” Andy asks him, glancing over his shoulder. “Rob’s not exactly a barrel of laughs.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Aaron asks but doesn’t look over, no matter how much Robert wills him to.

“He’s feeling sorry for himself. Sulking. The usual.”

“I’ll give it a miss then,” Aaron says, taking a large gulp of his drink and for one second Robert thinks he might turn his head, but he doesn’t. He won’t answer his texts or take his calls and Robert is too proud to keep following him around the village.

Andy returns to the table, sliding a coffee in front of Robert and drinking the foam from his pint. “Get that down you.”

“It’s not all my fault,” Robert says. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Andy sighs, berating Robert with a laugh. “It’s never you, Rob. It’s always someone else’s fault.”

There’s a recklessness to his behaviour now, angled to face Aaron and his eyes glued to him. His fingers drum against the table top, impatient for a confrontation.

“Sober up and try again with her. And I mean try properly, lose all this front. Put yourself in her shoes for a change.”

Robert has hardly heard a word he’s said, conscious of how close Aaron is to leaving the bar, his drink almost drained. He manages a scolding gulp of his coffee and stands, oblivious to the way Andy just stops advising him mid-sentence.

“Getting some water,” he says, the feeblest excuse he can muster and staggers before learning how to walk properly again. His head whirls – the drink having a fiercer hold than he thought. He feels Aaron steel himself, his body rigid.

“You having a nice night?” Robert says, leaning on the bar next to him, their arms touching. He wants the words to come out softer than they do.

“I was.” Aaron wipes his hand across his mouth and side steps Robert to try and leave, but before he can Robert blocks him with his arm on the small of his back.

“Please,” he says, more desperate than he can afford to be in public.

Aaron eyes Robert’s hold on him and their gazes meet. It’s been so long since they looked at each other, tensions spilling to the surface. It could escalate. And Robert knows he can’t let it. He can’t let Aaron leave like this, but he has to. His arm falls away and he slumps backwards, seeing Aaron swallow and drive his attention to the floor.

“I’ll see ya,” he says and Robert clings to the brief, sad tenderness in his voice as he watches Aaron walk away, following him as he disappears out the back of the pub. He could follow. But he can’t. He can’t.

He snaps back into focus and orders a glass of water from Alicia, touching the rim of Aaron’s empty pint glass with his fingers.

Andy doesn’t notice a thing.

 

**_ And One Time Someone Did _ **

**__ **

**Victoria**

Marlon's waving a mutated metal object at her, his eyes like two white gobstoppers bulging from his face.

"What is it?" Victoria asks like he's playing some sort of game rather than flailing his arms at her in anger.

"A cheese grater. A melted cheese grater."

"Riiiiight?"

"Is that all you can say?! You left it on the hob! Not only is it melted but you could have set the whole place alight!" He gestures around the kitchen - the unmarked, unburnt kitchen.

"Keep your hair on Marlon it's hardly the crime of the century!"

"It is when we've got a grated cheese baguette ordered. And how am I meant to garnish the pasta without it, huh?!"

She wipes her hands on the apron, abandoning the half plated scampi and chips. "Finish this and I'll just borrow one from Diane's kitchen," she says rolling her eyes at him and leaving him there still exasperated and spitting.

Victoria isn't sure why but something makes her pause outside the door to the flat at the back of the pub. It's pulled-to but she can hear her brother talking clearly, raising his voice. He doesn’t sound angry, not the sort of frothing fury she’s come across before. This is the type of voice he uses when he’s cornered, accused. She didn't even know Robert was around, she hadn’t seen him in the pub when she’d been back and forth with the lunches. Victoria presses her head to the door and listens, catching the tail end of his heated speech.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I could tell you a thousand times and you still wouldn't believe me. I don't know what more I can do." She strains to hear the next part because he's lowered his volume but then she finds herself shaking her head, unsurprised. Another falling out with Chrissie, another banishment to the pub. He continues. "I love you. You know I love you. And look, I know I can't give you what you want but I hate all this fighting. I hate you not talking to me. I'm miserable. You're miserable."

Victoria smiles. These moments with Robert are rare and all too fleeting, but she sees it more than anyone else does – the softness in him. No one gives him a break, they see the bad, just the bad. The arrogance, the ego, the temper, the countless mistakes which he still keeps making. Even now when he’s messing up his perfect life and falling out with Chrissie again, she can’t help the swell of fondness for him.

"I don't want this to be over.”

She leaves it for a minute, hearing a soft kissing sound and she counts silently in her head before heading straight into the room as if she hasn’t been listening and has no idea that he’s even there, trying to sweet talk his wife into forgiving him.

They’re on the sofa, sitting together, facing each other. Not Robert and Chrissie. Not Chrissie at all. Victoria had planned on rushing straight through to the kitchen, pretending to be oblivious to whatever domestic they were involved in, but she couldn’t move when she saw them. Saw Aaron. Saw her brother looking at him, hand gripped around his forearm.

Robert looked up and his hand fell away from Aaron and he stood, creating a gulf between him and the situation. She could see the panic in his face, blaring from the whites of his eyes.

“I’ve just come to get something from the kitchen,” she says, her throat too tight to swallow. She doesn’t move and Aaron looks up, meeting her eyes. He knows their secret is blown and wills her with his eyes to keep quiet as stands and leaves the room, pausing briefly at the door, touching the handle and giving Robert one last look.

They’re standing staring at each other, Victoria’s mouth quivering with a mess of emotions. At a loss she begins rifling through drawers to try and find Diane’s grater, blocking out every question that keeps pounding through her head.

“What are you looking for?” Robert asks stepping over, behind her. He’s trying to distract her, but it’s there in his voice, the abject terror.

She slams a cutlery drawer shut and silence comes after the clatter.

“What are you doing, Rob?!” she says, not angry enough, not confused enough. Sad for this whole sorry mess. Hurting for the lies and the pain he’s about to put everyone through.

“What?” he says, shaking his head, already denying what she’s about to say. His face hardens.

“You love him?”

He laughs, forced and false, folding his arms across his chest. “What? Who?”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot,” she says. “I heard you. I heard what you were saying to him.”

“Is this some sort of joke?” he says. “What are you talking about?”

“Aaron!”

“Aaron? You think I’m in love with Aaron?” He scoffs, laughing again. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but that – _that_ – is ridiculous!”

“I saw you together, just now.” Victoria looks in the direction of the sofa. “That wasn’t nothing.”

He splutters, trying to find sense in something he can’t explain. “We were just talking.”

“You kissed.”

Robert swallows and she watches his eyes dart, his gaze trying to focus on anything that isn’t her. She hasn’t seen him like this in a long time. Words have evaporated from him, the rims of his eyes pink and dark.

“Vic, I’m married.” He holds up his ringed hand as some sort of proof. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Aaron’s a bloke.”

“Yeah. A good one. And a good looking one.” She tries staring at him to make him look at her. “He acts all tough, like he doesn’t care but he’s got a good heart.” It’s impossible for her not to notice the way his jaw twitches. “He’s not unlike you, you know.”

“Well I’m not gay.”

“But you are in love with him.”

He takes his time, turns his head slowly and he can’t ignore her any longer. He can’t deny it. Robert makes eye contact and then she knows, she knows it more than she thought. She’d almost managed to convince herself she’d made it up, that it was some strange dream.

He nods. Eyes wide and still. “You can’t say anything.”

She’d missed any hints, they all had, but now here it is - staring her in the face. Robert and Aaron.

 


End file.
